


Give Me Love, I Don't Need It

by berryblonde



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Gavin Reed Redemption, M/M, Post-Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2019-11-18 14:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18121892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berryblonde/pseuds/berryblonde
Summary: A glance through the looking glass and a whole world falls apart, bit by bit. What feels like a dream turns out to be very real, a reality so similar yet so different to his own, and Gavin Reed is forced to reconsider his views and the choices he made in life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have  
> absolutely no excuse  
> i started this on a whim bc _someone_ enabled me to. ANYWAYS. I'll try to finish Outliers, I promise, but this one just  
> hgnn  
> gripped my attention and inspiration. Let's be honest, the concept is very self-indulgent bc I love it.  
> As always, huge thanks to Asiya for beta'ing and to Sivi for screaming about this concept with me, as well as Kuinshi and Chibi for being super supportive <3 Where would I be without you guys (probably getting a decent amount of sleep but that's besides the point)

Gavin Daniel Reed was many things. Detective, lover of coffee and his cats Gilbert and Fucknugget, affectionately nicknamed Nuggs, android sceptic, workaholic and asshole extraordinaire.

One of the things Gavin Reed was not, however, was late. Ever. Only today, he was; his shoes hammering against the wet pavement, making the grossest sound as he ran the last few meters towards the precinct, beloved leather jacket held up above his head as a make-shift protection from the heavy rain.

He scoffed. This wasn’t just rain anymore. This was a fucking storm. But the forces of nature certainly weren’t enough to keep him from going to work and doing the only thing he was good at: solving crimes and beating up assholes worse than him. All legally, of course.

A particularly harsh gust of wind almost ripped the jacket from his tight grip, and Gavin cursed. This certainly wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t forgotten his fucking umbrella at home. But he had overslept, for the first time in  _ years,  _ with barely enough time to get dressed and feed his cats. He ended up being forced to leave without his usual pick-me-up in form of a large coffee, and the reminder of what he had missed only made him angrier.

In the haste, he hadn’t even realized the horrible weather that was raging outside and hadn’t geared up for it.

Slipping on the wet pavement he came to a stunned halt when he reached the sliding doors that led inside the DPD. The glass refused to budge, no matter how much he moved around and cursed and scowled.

Resisting the urge to raise his hand and slam his fist through the glass become harder with each second he stood outside in the horrid weather, though Gavin was well aware that it would do no good: the glass doors were heavy and thick, made specifically so that no one could simply break in— or break out.

He’d have to call someone. But for that, he would need at least one of his hands, letting the jacket sag down and leaving him without protection from the pouring rain.

Just what he needed.

With a heavy sigh he let go of the article of clothing and held back a curse when it fell down against his head. He brushed away the sleeve before starting to rummage through his pocket, trying to find his phone in there. With his luck today, he’d have forgotten it at home.

An almost giddy feeling of relief flooded him when his fingers wrapped around his phone in his pocket and he pulled it out. Trying to use the touchscreen would be much harder due to the raindrops, but he would be able to make it work. Somehow.

With one hand he unlocked the so far, relatively dry phone — thank heavens for finger-print scanners, though Gavin wasn’t sure how much he actually trusted them— and began searching through his contacts. Typing wouldn’t work, not in this storm, but he could attempt to call Tina. Maybe she could let him inside.

He pressed the phone against his ear, waiting for the usual sounds notifying him that a connection would be established. It took a few seconds, but eventually she picked up.

“Gavin? What’s up? Did something happen?”

“Yeah, the fucking door won’t open,” he almost growled, frustrated by the whole situation. Oh how he wished for a warm cup of coffee at the moment. Even the shitty one inside the station would do.

“The Door? What— Oh!” She exclaimed, and he could hear shuffling in the background. “The sliding door outside? Yeah, we had to turn off the automatic opening because all kinds of objects being thrown around by the damn wind would cause it to open up and let the rain inside. Just use the scanner, though it might take a few tries because y’know— the rain. You would know that if you weren’t late,” she chastised, her voice light and joking, but Gavin really wasn’t in the mood for her teasing.

“Whatever,” he grumbled back and hung up, without saying good-bye or waiting for a response. Once he was inside, she’d probably tell him how unnecessarily rude that had been, how would he ever find a man if he was as polite as a feral cat, blah, blah, blah. He loved Tina, he really did, but her nagging drove him insane at times.

With a few mumbled curses he slipped the phone back into his pocket and lifted his hand to press it against the small, hidden panel next to the door. He really should’ve thought of this earlier— but he could attribute that to the lack of caffeine.

He scoffed when nothing happened before trying again. And again. Maybe punching it  _ would _ actually help, he contemplated, another slew of curses coming over his mouth when the sleeve of the jacket, which he was still holding up with one hand, fell back into his face.

Part of him wanted to stomp his foot into the ground like a toddler having a tantrum, even if just to release some of the frustration that was building up inside of him. His clothes were soaked, his feet were wet, his nose was running and he was fucking  _ cold _ , and the door just wouldn’t open.

With a frustrated groan he tried again, trying to wipe of the water off the panel with the sleeve of his shirt first.

_ Access denied. _

The words glared at him in a threatening red, and all he wanted was to scream and cuss at the panel. Holding back was hard, but he wasn’t about to make an absolute fool out of himself on the off chance that someone would walk past in the next few minutes.

A shiver ran through his body as a particularly cold gust of wind hit him, and he instinctively wrapped his free arm around himself when suddenly, an arm shot past him, skin on a stranger’s hand retreating, turning white and connecting with the panel. Gavin whipped around, almost slipping on the wet pavement.

_ Connor _ .

Of course. The android smiled at him, all politely and friendly, and Gavin hated it. Hated  _ him _ . Connor’s hair hung down into his eyes, brown curls loose and damp from the rain, LED cycling a yellow as he established a connection with the door, shirt wet and suit jacket — what fucking Detective wore a fucking suit jacket? Connor did, apparently— open and rumpled, but it didn’t help to diminish his— his  _ cleanness. _ Somehow, the android always managed to look so prim and proper, and Gavin absolutely loathed it.

Hated the android that was literally built to be faster, stronger, more efficient,  _ better _ than him. Who had managed to become a Detective with only a fraction of the grueling work Gavin had had to go through, none of the studying and training under asshole officers who thought they were better than you, none of those years as a rookie and a beat cop, driving patrols and doing traffic shifts.  _ None of it _ . The android had simply waltzed back in two months after the revolution and had been giving the green light to sit the Detective exam almost immediately. Hero of the revolution, a show-case of integration, of positive human-android relationships. Even Robo-Jesus had shown up once.

Each time, Gavin was torn between decking Connor, who looked so fucking proud, which he certainly didn’t deserve to be in Gavin’s not-so-humble opinion, and puking. Preferably, right on the android’s spotlessly clean shoes.

Or maybe dunk one of his coffees onto him, just to teach him that wearing a white shirt at work as a Detective was probably a bad fucking idea.

“Detective? The door has been open for approximately 5.12 seconds now and will close soon. It would be advisable for us to enter,” Connor suddenly spoke up, interrupting Gavin’s angry musing. “And today’s weather condition are less than favorable for the human health, especially since I suspect your immune system is weakened from the limited amount of sleep you get and the amount of caffeine you consume instead of real meals. Your body temperature has already dipped below normal.”

Taken aback, Gavin simply stared at the android for another second, before feeling anger rise in him. “Stop fucking scanning me, you fucking creep,” he barked at the android before using his free arm to shove him away as harshly as he could muster, watching with anger as Connor barely even stumbled and simply adjusted his tie, before stomping into the precinct.

The warm and dry air inside felt like a blessing and Gavin finally removed the jacket from above his head. It was soaked through and through, and he’d have to hang it up somewhere to let it dry if he wanted to wear it on his way home. Fucking perfect.

Without even sparing so much as a glance towards the receptionist, ignoring her friendly hello, he entered the bullpen. There were already footsteps behind him, and he wanted to do everything he could to avoid any further interaction with Connor in the near future. If there was anything he truly hated, it was talking to the plastic prick. And his brother. And tomatoes.

Okay, maybe Gavin Reed hated a lot of things. He wasn’t a cheery person, and anyone would confirm that. With a huff, he draped his wet jacket over the back of his chair and dropped down into it, shaking his head harshly to dry off his damp hair even just a bit. How it had gotten wet despite the jacket above his head was a mystery to him, but it probably served him right for something he had done.

He wiped his hand on his jeans — also damp— in a futile attempt to get them to dry a bit before connecting to his terminal. Paperwork had started to pile up, some of it being long due by now and Gavin immediately knew what he’d be doing today.

The thing he hated the most about his job, overly cheery and polite plastic Detectives excluded: fucking paperwork. Just peachy.

Before that, however, he needed a coffee. He grabbed his favorite mug from his desk and walked past Tina’s empty one and into the break room, feet still uncomfortably wet in his shoes. Setting it down on below the coffee machine he turned it on.

The wonderful smell of fresh coffee began filling the small room, and Gavin couldn’t help but sigh contently. No matter how disgusting the break room coffee was, it was still coffee. He went on to fetch some sugar from another cabinet, quickly ripping it open and when he turned around he almost dropped the small packet.

The counter, the floor, everything, was drenched in coffee.

He had put the mug there the wrong way up. The childish urge to throw the sugar pack and simply stomp out and pretend this wasn’t his mess welled up in him again, and this time, he didn’t manage to fully resist.

And so, the small packet of sugar went flying against the nearest wall full force,  spilling its contents all over the wet floor.

It took him barely a second to realize that this meant he’d have to clean that up too now. Fucking. Fantastic.

Cursing under his breath he began to grab a bunch of paper towels to try and soak up the caffeinated mess he had created by being a fucking dumbass, until he realized that, no matter if in the mug or on the floor, the coffee was fucking  _ hot _ . He yelped and threw the bunch of paper towels against the coffee machine even though it did little to aid his frustration.

With gritted teeth, and a little bit more care, he went on until the room looked clean again, or at least, as clean as it had before. Extra careful to place the mug correctly this time he restarted his attempts to make himself a coffee and grabbed another sugar packet.

Once the machine was done he emptied the sugar into the mug and didn’t even wait to go back to his desk, instead gulping down the scorching hot coffee as fast as he could.

Fuck, he had needed that, no matter how bad his mouth and throat felt now. He quickly made another one before returning to his terminal.

Time dragged on slower than it ever had as he sifted through file after file and filled out paperwork that he had previously missed. Past him was a real fucking dick to present him, but would he change his habits? Most likely not. As much as Gavin loved his job, paperwork was not a part he enjoyed.

Fingers flying over the keyboard he began entering names and copying notes and filling in forms, constantly chewing his lips in frustration, especially whenever he saw one of his colleagues walk in or out of the precinct. Fuck them for being able to do interesting things while he was stuck doing his fucking paperwork.

That it was basically his own fault his brain casually overlooked in his complaining.

The clock kept ticking, and Gavin kept cursing whenever he made a typo. Got up a few times to get himself a new cup of coffee, the insides of his mouth still burning from the hastily drunken first one.

Then his phone buzzed a couple of times. Each time he elected to ignore it as soon as he saw the number on the display.

What his fuckhead of a brother wanted from him was beyond him, and he wasn’t about to give the bastard the satisfaction of actually answering his texts or taking one of his calls. Whatever happened, whatever the fuckhead wanted, it wasn’t his problem.

Until the calls and texts became so frequent that he wanted nothing more than to throw his phone into the fucking trash, feeling the eyes of his coworkers, and more specifically, of  _ Connor _ on him as his phone buzzed again, demanding his attention.

No.

He would not talk to the fucking bastard.

It took about another half an hour until his resolution caved, his annoyance building until he was unable to concentrate on the current case file.

Gavin threw his chair back and grabbed his phone before stalking out of the bullpen and outside the precinct, where the rain had thankfully subsided.

“What?” He barked into the phone as soon as he took the call, wind still roaring around him. “I’m trying to  _ work _ here. What the fuck do you want, asshole?”

“Now, is that a way to talk to your brother?” The voice on the other end of the line asked, and Gavin was back to wanting to throw his phone. He hated the fucker’s voice and his way of talking.

“Tell me what you want or I’m hanging up.”

“Can’t I simply want to talk to my dear little brother?”

Gavin laughed, but without humor.

“You? Yeah, no, ain’t gonna happen. You have twenty seconds to fucking explain yourself or I’m hanging up and this time I’m blocking your number for real. No fucking clue why I didn’t do this before.”

“Don’t you think we should be past these childish games by now?” A sigh. “We both know you won’t do it.”

“Fifteen seconds.”

“I simply wanted to ask you if you wanted to come visit this weekend. For dinner. For, you know—”

“No,” he replied before pressing the button to end the call, not even waiting for a further response.

This was it. This truly marked one of the worst days he had had in a while, ever since Gilbert had wandered off to fuck knows where last summer and had only returned a week later, unharmed and even fatter than he had been before.

Gavin stuffed his phone back into his pocket with more force than strictly necessary, almost dropping it in the process before he walked back inside, ramming his shoulder into a certain android that was probably about to go to some fucking crime scene with Lieutenant drunk-before-noon while all Gavin had to do was his fucking paperwork and trying to ignore his shitty excuse for a brother.

Because no matter how much he hated it, he knew the fucker was right. He didn’t have the heart, or the guts, to block his number, and he was sure that it’d be useless anyways. He knew him since they had been children, if his brother wanted something, he’d get it. Even if it meant some not so legal hacking.

And what he wanted was apparently to pester him, as if he wasn’t the worst brother in the history of brothers.

Not even shoving Connor had made him feel better, and he almost hoped that the android would come back and be a smartass just so he could take out some of his pent-up rage on him.

Just because he had been forced to accept the presence of the stupidly attractive android in his precinct didn’t mean he had to like it. Stupid fucking android with his pretty brown eyes and his perfectly lean but muscular stature.

With a groan, Gavin slumped down into his chair and dropped his head onto his desk.

He still remembered the utter devastation he had felt upon seeing the android’s LED; the first time he had seen the other he’d been standing at  an angle to him that had obscured the blinking little mood ring or any of the insignias on his clothing that marked him as an android, and Gavin had felt attracted to the other fucking immediately. He looked exactly like his type, like someone had sculpted him after his fucking wet dream, and he had even made plans to ask him out after work.

Only for all of his hopes to be crushed when he had turned around and introduced himself.

Life was truly cruel, he thought before lifting his head again and propping with one of hands under his chin, using his free hand to continue scrolling through the endless array of files that he still had to finish.

_ 6:32 pm. _

Half an hour. He could do that. Any other day he probably would have stayed longer, done overtime, finished working on whatever case he had been assigned last. But there was no chance in hell that he’d stay just to finish his fucking paperwork, not when the only other Detective, other than the few officers on night-shift and the big boss himself, that would remain was the plastic asshole himself.

Apparently, his conjoined twin had gone away to get drunk at some bar or another already, same old, same old.

Part of him still felt angry about it, about how someone he had once looked up to could fall from grace like Hank did.

He dragged a hand across his face, hand hovering over his screen.  _ Almost done _ , he thought, finally moving his fingers towards the save button. A few other files were still left unopened and he couldn’t remember whether he had saved them already, but it didn’t really matter. He would just do it later.

With a relieved sigh he pressed the button and leaned back in his chair, when his computer suddenly froze, the screen glitching out until it turned to complete and utter black.

For a few seconds, Gavin simply stared at his terminal, too dumbstruck to do anything. A shuffling behind him coming from Connor’s desk seemed to pull him out of his stupor and he began to panic, shaking his computer screen and cussing at it, begging it to come back to life.

When nothing happened, he let out a defeated groan. He would have to turn it off and on again, most likely, since the computer was apparently still using power if he was judging by the blinking light at its side.

Before he could carry out his plan, the computer showed him a blue screen of death before turning itself off and then on again.

Now he could only hope that his files had actually been saved.

When his user page loaded and he logged in he held his breath, swiping across the screen to open the right folder.

“No,” he mumbled as soon as his eyes fell on the dates the documents had been last changed.  _ December 21 _ ,  _ November 6 _ ,  _ January 2 _ , but none of them, not a single one from today.

With a frustrated groan he threw himself back into his chair, incredibly close to simply taking his terminal and throwing it out of the window.

That seemed to be a pattern today, he noticed with a dry, humorless laugh, dropping his head down onto his desk again and cursing when he felt a sharp pain shooting through his forehead. Probably served him right for not saving all those files before.

“Detective? Is everything alright?” The soft voice made him look up.  _ Of course _ .

“Yeah, just fucking perfect, assshole,” he said through gritted teeth, looking at the android standing in front of him with narrowed eyes, clothes now dry and just a tiny bit rumpled. God, how a part of him still wished that he had been the one to rumple them on a human Connor. Mentally slapping himself for the thought he glared at the other, who seemed completely unfazed.

“I noticed that you were having some technical difficulties with your terminal, maybe I can help?” Connor offered with a perfectly polite expression on his face, his hand already reaching out for Gavin’s terminal.

He caught the android’s arm mid-air.

“Listen here, dipshit,” he growled, holding onto Connor’s arm way too tightly as if it was some sort of stress-ball. Had the other been human, he would have been gasping in pain and end up with bruises, but Connor simply looked at him curiously.

“I don’t need your fucking help, I don’t need you going around the fucking precinct and pretending you’re better than me just because you know oh so much. You’re still nothing more than a glorified little Roomba and that’s that. So how about you get out of here and leave the police work to us humans, what do you say, asshole?” He didn’t even realize all eyes were on them.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Detective,” Connor replied, still calm as ever which only served to anger Gavin more. “I’m a member of the force in the same way as you are, and I had really hoped that three years after the revolution, you had at least started to accept it.”

“Do I look like the type of idiot who’d fall for this bullshit? I don’t fucking care what you say, or what your precious Robo-Jesus says, I don’t fucking care that you’ve got Hank wrapped around your fucking finger and made him buy into this bullshit, I fucking won’t you little asshole.”

“Detective Reed, I have to ask you to refrain from talking to me like this, I’m—”

“I don’t fucking care what you think you are,” Gavin sneered, pushing Connor’s arm away and walking around the desk to grab him by his shirt collar. He absolutely despised the fact that he had to look up to Connor, because of course, the android was at least three inches taller than him.

“You’re nothing more than a fucking pile of plastic and metal and one day I—”

“REED!” A booming voice interrupted him and he whipped around, still holding onto Connor’s dress shirt.

Someone had apparently gotten Fowler when their little altercation had started. Fuck. He was utterly fucked.

“What the hell is going on here?!” Their boss shouted, and Gavin let go off Connor as if he had burned himself on the android.

“Nothing,” he tried to play it off, but he could see that Fowler was not buying it.

“Reed, I think it’s time you go home. I’m fucking done with your behavior. Connor is your colleague the same as everyone else, and I can’t accept you harassing him.”

“But—”

“No buts. You’re going home, you’re fucking suspended for the rest of the week. Sort out your mess, or you’re on desk duty until you have. If this happens again, I’m collecting your gun and badge.”

Defeatedly, Gavin simply nodded, suddenly feeling every single pair of eyes in the room on him, judging him. Fuck. This was truly the worst fucking day he had ever had. Without looking at Connor he grabbed his jacket and keys before storming out of the precinct. What he really needed right now was a fucking drink.

As soon as he parked his car in the driveway to his apartment complex he got out and slammed it shut with a bit too much force, earning a glare from one of the passer-bys at the loud noise. Fuck them, he thought.

He had almost gotten into two accidents on his way home, partly his fault due to his aggressive driving today, but he couldn’t bring himself to care anymore as he stomped up the stairs leading to his shithole of an apartment.

Despite the revolution and everything, there were no androids living in the complex and he couldn’t be happier about it, despite the fact that it was run-down and the elevator was never working.

With heavy steps he dragged himself past Ms. Fitzpatrick’s apartment, hearing her half a dozen cats meowing from the inside before going on to open his own door. The building still used actual keys, and it took him three attempts to finally get the key in. Before he entered, he kicked the door twice for good measure.

Inside, he went straight for his liquor cabinet, plopping down onto his couch and shooing away Gilbert. The large Maine Coon hissed, affronted before jumping off the furniture and stalking away.

With a heavy sigh, Gavin popped open the half-empty bottle of the strongest whiskey he had found in his cabinet and took a large swig. The way the alcohol burned his throat felt good,  _ relaxing _ even, and he could feel himself slowly calming down.

Whatever he had done to deserve today, he didn’t know. His phone buzzed with text after text from Tina and Chris who had apparently found out that he had been suspended, but he ignored them, instead simply shutting off his phone.

He took another gulp, not even bothering to turn on the TV. There would be nothing interesting running anyways, and he didn’t want to hear news about another pro-android law being passed or see his stupid fucking brother’s face all over the news again.

It didn’t take long for the bottle to be emptied and he tried to stand up but immediately went crashing back onto the couch.

No more alcohol, it seemed. He grumbled, ignoring Nugget rubbing against his feet. Gavin loved the little orange menace, he truly did, but sometimes her need for affection was just too much for him. Instead, he leaned forward and grabbed the box of cigarettes he kept on his coffee table. It took him around three attempts to light one, Nugget now long gone and even in his inebriated state he was glad for it.

Just because he ruined his lungs didn’t mean he’d have to do it for the poor cat, but he really needed a smoke right now and wasn’t secure enough on his feet to go to the window.

As he took his first drag, the bitter taste of nicotine on his tongue and smoke in his lungs he wondered for a brief moment where the fuck he had gone wrong in life to deserve this. Should he have made different choices? Could things have been different if he had been less of an asshole?

He let out a laugh that turned into coughing. Sure. Gavin Reed, not being an asshole. That would never be the case, he thought, flicking against the bud of his cigarette, missing the ashtray. He’d clean that up tomorrow.

A few more drags and and he had to put the cigarette out, cursing when he almost burnt himself in the process. Gavin was itching for another one, but he knew his eyes were beginning to fall shut so he began dragging himself into the direction of his bedroom.

There was no way in hell he’d sleep on his raggedy old couch. He wasn’t twenty anymore, and the last time had seriously fucked up his back. The fact that he would be turning forty this year was incredibly depressing.

Without even bothering to change his clothes he stumbled into bed, his phone still in the living room. It didn’t matter, he was suspended anyway and didn’t need to get up for work tomorrow.

Fucking hell. And all because of that stupid fucking android.

He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Sunlight tickled his nose as Gavin stirred awake, frowning. Had he forgotten to pull the blinds shut yesterday? Probably. It wouldn’t be the first time.

He tried to turn around and pull the blanket above his head to continue dozing when he noticed a heavy weight above his waist and a warm chest pressed into his back.

Now  _ that _ was something he certainly didn’t remember.

He drank alone yesterday, hadn’t he? How had this person ended up in his bed? Gavin lazily opened his eyes before bolting up.

This wasn’t his apartment. It looked cleaner, looked—- warmer, friendlier. The room was bigger, less messy. No bottles of alcohol on the floor, no loose clothes strewn around the room. Looking down at himself he suddenly realized that he was undressed, only wearing his boxers. What had happened?

Next to him, the person who he’d apparently gotten into bed with shuffled. Gavin turned around.

“No,” he whispered, eyes wide in shock and mouth slightly agape.

_ Connor _ . How— How the hell did that happen? Was this Connor’s house? No, there were— there were pictures on the wall, of Gavin. And Connor. Of them, together.

“Gavin?” Connor asked, voice rough as if his vocal processors hadn’t fully booted up yet, rubbing his eyes in a gesture that was just so  _ human _ , a slight blue tinge on his cheeks.

“Is everything alright?”

Gavin started at him for a few moments before jumping out of bed.

“I— I gotta go— I— I have no fucking idea what happened— I’m—”

Connor sat up and looked at him, scrunching his brows in confusion.

“Gavin, are you alright? I knew I shouldn’t have let you go back to work so quickly again.”

“Where are my clothes?” Gavin asked, almost hysterical. He couldn’t find them anywhere on the floor. Where they in the living room?

“Your clothes? They’re— they’re in the closet, as always. Gavin, are you sure you’re okay? You look upset.” The worry in Connor’s voice made him feel almost sick.

“I really need to go, I— I can’t even fucking remember how I ended up here, please tell me we didn’t—” He opened the wardrobe and grabbed the first articles of clothing he found, a jeans he recognized and a pullover he didn’t before he pulled them on.

“How you ended up here? Gavin, you live here! I’m calling Fowler, you’re in no condition to go to work today.”

“Why the fuck would you call Fowler?! I’m suspended anyways, don’t you fucking remember?”

“Suspended?” Connor stood up, wearing only boxer shorts and a shirt that seemed a little too big for him, Gavin could feel the heat rise in his cheek.

When Connor approached him and put a hand against his forehead he was too stunned to react.

“Hm, you don’t seem to be running a fever.”

“Why the fuck do you care?” He barked out as soon as he realized what Connor was doing, pushing the android away harshly. What he hadn’t expected was the look of hurt and confusion on the other’s face.

“Why I— I’m your husband, of course I care!” Connor exclaimed, LED rapidly blinking yellow.

_ Husband? _ What the fuck was happening?

“I’m— I need to get out, I’m sorry, I’m—” Gavin stammered, giving Connor one last look before he bolted out of the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? updating something? yes. I'm really enjyoing writing this story, so it's probably the one you'll be getting for a while ^^;; huge thanks to chibi for spell-checking <3

The cold, late January air was biting against the skin of his face and hands, wind making its way through the much too thin pullover he was wearing, and Gavin cursed himself for not grabbing a jacket on his way out. At least he had put on shoes and pocketed his phone, he thought grimly.

His feet were carrying him as if they had a mind on their own, and in his confusion he barely even noticed where he was going, doesn’t even bother to look for his car. The strange encounter with Connor was still swirling around his head, bits and pieces replaying over and over again like a broken DVD, mashed up into each other and sometimes distorted in his bewilderment.

A car honked at him aggressively as he hastily crossed the street, and he could see the driver shouting at him from behind thick windows. Gavin simply raised his middle finger and flipped the man off, too upset to care that he had just been almost ran over. When his steps came to a halt on the other side of the street he had been crossing a sudden realization flooded him.

This wasn’t his neighborhood. This looked— nicer. More family-friendly, more polished, looked like one of the suburbs of Detroit with the cute little houses he had always mocked whenever him and Tina had driven through.

And that meant that he was utterly lost now. Shivering, he wrapped his arms around his torso, hugging himself as if trying to keep himself together. This had to be a dream. A really weird, alcohol-induced, all too realistic dream.

He dragged his hand across his face as if the motion could wipe away the memory of what happened, the memory of waking up in the same bed as Connor, his arm around Gavin’s waist, of Connor’s voice calling Gavin his  _ husband _ . The thought was absurd enough to make Gavin laugh out loud, though there was no humor in it and it was slightly hysterical.

Him and Connor? Married? No, this was definitely a weird dream, he thought, leaning against the wall of one of the houses before sliding down against it and sitting on the cold pavement, his legs unable to support him.

But what did that say about his subconscious, that he made up this absolutely absurd scenario of him and the tincan? Nothing good, probably, and he had been drunker, or crazier, than he had thought if his mind confused the hatred he felt towards the android for enough affection to make up this mess. He couldn’t deny the fact that the android was attractive, he had eyes after all, but— not like  _ this _ .

Maybe he was overworked. Maybe this was his brain’s way of coping with what had happened the day before, with being suspended for essentially harassing Robocop.

Gavin removed his hand from his face and let it hover over his other arm for a second before pinching himself, hard enough that it made him curse at the pain.

Nothing changed. Still there. Did that mean— He tried again. There was no way in hell this was anything other than a dream, how would that even be possible?

He pinched himself for the third time. No change, no difference, except for the throbbing pain in his arm and the sound of him hissing.

Wasn’t pinching himself supposed to make him wake up? In his pocket, his phone vibrated and Gavin fished it out of his pocket with shaky hands.

The time, 7:23 a.m. was perfectly legible, unlike what he had heard about clocks in dreams. One look at the caller ID and he pressed the call away, unwilling to talk to him again. To talk to  _ Connor _ again.

Where the fuck did the tincan even get his number from? He wondered when Connor called a second, a third time.

And why was the android saved to his contacts as “Con <3” like he was some high school girl? He cursed when the android called a fourth time, leaving a voice message this time.

Gavin refused to listen to it. Whatever Connor wanted, he didn’t care. Didn’t care to hear what the other had to say, didn’t care to hear him sound as hurt as he had looked when Gavin had stormed out of his— of their? — bedroom and house. There was absolutely nothing he could do about him and his ridiculous idea that he was supposed to mean something to Gavin.

But— maybe there was someone else he could call, he thought, pressing away Connor’s fifth call. Maybe Tina would know what to do, or would at least believe him.

Were they even friends in this dream, this reality? He couldn’t believe it to be any other way, but who knew, He would have never imagined even the possibility of being married to Connor.

A slight sense of nausea took hold of him when he saw the background that he had apparently set for his phone once he had unlocked it using the fingerprint scanner: A photograph of him and Connor, smiling, blushes on both of their faces, hair messy and rings proudly held up for the camera.

Everything about it felt  _ wrong _ and he could feel the urge to throw his phone away.

Breathing heavily he searched through his contacts, looking for Tina’s name just like he had the day before when he hadn’t been able to open the door to the DPD.

Another call from Connor interrupted him before he could select her name, and yet again, he ignored it, before pressing down onto the call button.

The few seconds it took until she picked up felt like hours.

“Yes?” In that very moment, her voice sounded like heaven.

“Tina! You won’t fucking believe this—” He stopped himself, hesitating. She most likely really wouldn’t believe him. Who would? He sounded crazy. But the need to confide in someone, to tell someone about what was going was too strong.

“I have no fucking idea whether this is a really batshit crazy dream, or—”

“Dream? I’m pretty sure we’re both awake right now, dude,” she replied, voice light and teasing. “But seriously, what’s going on? Is your head getting worse again? Connor has been pretty worried about you—”

“My head? Chen, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“The— The concussion?” She sounded puzzled.

“Gavin, are you sure you’re alright? Maybe you should talk to Connor, or go to the doctor again instead of coming to work.”

“I don’t fucking want to talk to the fucking tin can,” he blurted out angrily, hand clenching tighter around his cellphone, knuckles white.

“The— The tin can? Gavin, what— why are you— Gavin, weren’t you two grossly happy and disgustingly enthusiastic about PDA just yesterday? Did you fight?” Her voice turned dead serious, quieting down a bit.

“I know you’re frustrated because you’ve been on medical leave, but that’s no reason to lash out at Connor.”

“I didn’t— I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about, Chen.”

“Gavin, I’m warning you, if this is some sick prank because I poured salt into your coffee last month I’m going to kill you.”

He ran his free hand through his hair, trying to make sense of anything Tina was saying.

“I’m fucking serious! This has got to be some weird fucking dream, I’m— there’s no fucking way in hell that I’m married to— to  _ Connor _ out of all people!”

“Gavin, they already gave you the chance of opting out of this at the altar, and I’m pretty sure you happily exchanged your vows with him. Whatever argument you two have gotten into, I’m sure it’s fixable— you just need to  _ talk _ . I thought you were aware that communication is pretty important by now, dude.”

“We didn’t get into a fucking fight!” Gavin shouted into the phone, feeling like he was reaching his limits. Of course this Tina didn’t believe a word he was saying.

“Uh-huh.” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm. “I’m getting the feeling that you screwed up and don’t want to admit it. And Gavin, I love you, you’re my friend, but please get your fucking head out of your ass and make up with your hubby, I need to go back to  _ work _ .”

A stunned silence followed, and before he could reply, Tina hung up.

“Fuck,” Gavin cursed, staring at the for now, silent phone in his hand. It took only seconds before it started vibrating again, and Gavin pressed away Connor’s call, dropping his head against the wall and sighing heavily.

Of course Tina didn’t believe a word he had said. Of course she believed that he had done something stupid to upset his “husband” who shouldn’t be his husband in the first place.

His phone buzzed again, two text messages. One from Connor, and one from— from his brother. Why the  _ fuck _ was Elijah texting him? Had Connor called him? Did this version of Connor in this fucked up version of reality know that Gavin was related to the bastard?

Reluctantly, Gavin opened the text message from his brother, deliberately ignoring Connor’s, once his curiosity had gotten the better of him.

_ From: Elijah _

_ Received at 7:43 a.m. _

_ Gavin, please call me. Or call Connor. He’s pretty upset right now. I don’t understand what happened, but we’re worried. _

Why was his brother talking to him as if their feelings towards each other were anything but resentment? He closed the message again, not bothering to reply, ignoring the next two calls that came in, putting his phone down onto the pavement next to him.

A shiver went through his body and he was suddenly even more aware of the cold. He had no idea where he was, and sure, he could use his phone’s GPS to find out, but where would he go? The precinct? He really didn’t want to deal with all the Officers there right now, not in his confused state.

There was no way in hell he was returning to Connor, and even if he wanted to, he had no idea where the other lived.

His apartment? Maybe, he thought, trying to breathe as slowly and deeply as possible, arms wrapped around himself in an attempt to keep himself warm.

Before he could finish his contemplations, his phone buzzed again and Gavin picked it up, full on intending to ignore the call once more.

But it wasn’t Connor who called him. It was  _ Hank _ .

Why would the old geezer take time out of his precious day full of getting drunk at various bars and getting to work at noon to call him? Had Connor told him what had happened? Without really thinking, he accepted the call.

“Gavin? Fucking hell, what are you doing, kid?” Hank barked on the other end of the line, but his tone was gentler than Gavin had heard in quite some time, especially directed at him.

“Connor is worried sick. He says your head is acting up.”

“My head is not fucking acting up,” Gavin shot back through gritted teeth, deeply regretting picking up.

“Sure, that’s why you acted so confused when Connor told him you guys were married. Or why you just bolted out of you guys’ home. For fuck’s sake, kid, what’s going on?”

“What’s going on?” Gavin asked, feeling himself to be on the brink of hysteria. “What’s going on is that everything here is fucking wrong.”

Hank remained quiet for a second, and Gavin went on.

“I’m not fucking married to the tin can, we don’t even fucking  _ talk _ civilly. Hell, just yesterday I was  _ suspended _ for arguing with him! I don’t live in a nice fucking house, I live in a shitty apartment with two rude cats, everyone keeps talking about something being wrong with my fucking head but the only thing wrong here is— is fucking everything!” he blurted out, his free hand frantically running through his hair and across his face in a nervous motion.

“Easy there, Gavin,” Hank said, voice calm and collected as if Gavin hadn’t just shouted absolutely ridiculous shit at him.

“Listen, kid, I don’t know what happened, but there’s always a solution. I have no idea how you came to the conclusion that  _ anything _ is wrong, but— if that’s what you believe right now, then we’ll find a solution for it, okay?”

Gavin shivered. Hearing Hank talk to him like this— like they were  _ friends _ just added to the wrongness of the situation. Yet at the same time it felt so fucking comforting to have someone listen to his outrageous ramblings, to have someone not immediately dismiss them but instead promising they’d find a solution.

He breathed in and out a couple of times, trying to calm his heart beating against his ribcage with full force.

“Okay,” he eventually whispered, before a chuckle came over his lips at how truly  _ ridiculous _ the situation was. Here he was, sitting on the pavement at not even eight in the morning in a weird dream that he was starting to doubt was actually a dream because it felt just so  _ real _ , getting comforted by his superior officer whom he hadn’t exchanged a friendly word with since probably ’34.

His chuckle evolved into full on laughter, hysterical and loud. If he woke any neighbors, he didn’t care.

“What’s so funny there, Gavin?” Hank grumbled, and Gavin just laughed harder, eventually pressing his arm into his stomach.

“You know,” he said between bouts of hysterical laughter, “this is actually pretty fucking funny, isn’t it?

I fucking drink too much one evening, and boom! I wake up in a strange house and am supposedly married to the fucking tin can!” He cackled.

“I bet this is actually some weird fucking prank,” he pondered. “Good job man! You truly fucking tricked me! Good job on even getting Tina to play along, but who am I kidding, she wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to be a pain in my fucking ass.”

“Gavin—”

“Congrats, old man. Seriously. You really tricked me. For a second, I actually believed that—”

“Gavin!”

“Yeah?” He grinned, wiping away his tears of laughter from his eyes.

“Stop. It’s what? Eight in the fucking morning? I swear to God, if you’re drunk or took something—”

“Nope, entirely sober!” He giggled.

“No one has pranked you, Gavin. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m getting seriously worried.”

“Why the hell are you worried about me? You can’t fucking stand me,” Gavin asked, surprised.

“In moments like this, I really can’t. But despite the way you used to behave, I know that you’re actually a good guy. So would you please cut this crap?”

“There’s no crap to cut! I’m— nothing here— this can’t be real, can it? I’m probably dreaming, aren’t I?” The laughter had died down by now, and Gavin shivered again.

“As much as I wish this was a dream, I’m pretty sure it’s not. Have you tried pinching yourself?”

“Multiple times.”

“There, not a dream.”

“But what the fuck is going on, then?” He breathed.

“Kid, I’d tell you in a heartbeat if I knew that. I get that you’re confused, but Connor is worried sick about you. And no matter what you believe right now, you really can’t do that to him. Please, go home.”

_ Home _ . Wherever he had been, that wasn’t home. But part of him knew Hank was right. Wherever he was, whatever was going on, this version of him seemed to be married to the one and only plastic Detective. And it probably wasn’t fair to do this to him, no matter how much Gavin hated his guts.

Plus, he was really fucking cold.

“I—” he began quietly, trying to swallow the lump that had built up in his throat.

“I don’t know how to get back to the house,” he admitted quietly, and Hank sighed.

“Describe the area for me, would you?”

“There’s—” he looked around, two street signs catching his eye. “I think I’m sittin at a cross between Oak Street and Schiller Street? In front of a blue house, number 6 I think? There’s— a bunch of trees everywhere?”

There was some rumbling from the the other end of the line, before Hank spoke up again. “Okay, I think I know where you are. I’ll text Connor, and he should be there to get you in a few minutes. The poor boy has been running around the neighborhood like crazy for the past twenty or thirty minutes, he shouldn’t be too far away. Stay where you are, got it?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gavin replied, rubbing his arm in an attempt to warm himself.

“Good. Just a few minutes. And whatever this is, I’m sure you guys’ll figure something out, but for now, it seems like you’ll have to get used to it.”

With that, he hung up and all Gavin was left with the the continuous beeping of a dead connection. With shaky fingers he hung up as well and put his phone back into his pocket, leaning back his head against the wall once more, closing his eyes and waiting for Connor.

He wasn’t sure whether minutes or hours had passed when he heard footsteps approaching and cautiously cracked open one of his eyes, only to find Connor crouched down in front of him, LED cycling yellow just as it had when Gavin had fled the bedroom.

“Hey,” he said, quietly, offering Gavin a hand to help him up.

Gavin ignored it just like he did the hurt expression on Connor’s face and pushed himself up on his own, cursing quietly as tiny rocks pressed into his palms.

Wordlessly, he motioned for Connor to lead the way, walking right next to the android. He was still wearing the same t-shirt Gavin now recognized as his own, but had put on a pair of sweatpants and some shoes.

“I’m glad you picked up when Hank called you,” Connor broke the silence, and Gavin immediately stiffened. He didn’t want to talk to Connor, not a fucking chance. But Hank’s words rang through his mind, and he forced himself to nod.

“He was… nice,” he said in an awkward attempt at conversation.

“I’m glad.”

Another beat of silence.

“Why didn’t you pick up when I called you? Or when Elijah called you?”

So Connor had sent the bastard to call him.

“Since when are you calling him  _ Elijah _ ?” Gavin couldn’t restrain himself from asking.

“Since— Gavin, I have been calling him by his first name for years, ever since you told me you two were related and invited me to have dinner with you and your brother.”

“I’d never do that,” he huffed.

“Well, you did.” Connor looked at him sternly, and Gavin couldn’t help but avert his gaze.

“I don’t— I don’t understand what’s going on, Gavin,” Connor said quietly, their steps heavy against the pavement.

“Please don’t shut me out like this. If— If it’s your head messing up again, we need— we need to go to the doctor immediately. Please, I’m just— I’m worried.”

The genuine concern and distress in Connor’s voice caused a pang of guilt to run through Gavin’s chest, and he swallowed. He felt almost bad for putting this version of Connor through this, but it wasn’t like he could do anything about it.

“I’m— Connor, I’m not— this isn’t how I know things to be,” he explained hesitantly, unsure what to tell the android.

Tina hadn’t believed him, and while Hank had been much kinder and more understanding, Gavin didn’t think that the Lieutenant had believed him either. But Connor probably deserved some kind of explanation, didn’t he?

“I don’t know anything about the way things are here, I’m— I’m not your husband, Connor.”

“But you are,” Connor argued quietly. “You are and— and I don’t know what happened, but we’ll figure this out, okay? But please don’t shut me out.”

Connor led them towards one of the houses, painted in a beautiful light blue with a small garden and big windows. The android pulled a key out of his pocket and went to unlock the door, before he glanced back at Gavin, opening his mouth as if he wanted to say something before closing it again.

Once he set foot inside he sighed contently at the warmth that enveloped him in the living room, and he took a proper look around. The room was kept in soft and warm tones, a light, beige colored wall contrasting with a dark brown couch in front of a medium sized TV, plants and most importantly,  _ fish tanks _ decorating the whole room. There were three of them, all full of various, colorful fish, in the corner there was a scratch post for cats, and Gavin sincerely hoped that at least Nugget and Gilbert were a thing here too.

When he saw the tiny orange ball of fur curled up on the couch he could feel relief flood his body. He watched curiously as Connor went over to her and sat down on the couch, fingertips gently running through her soft fur.

“Hey, Nugget,” he whispered, and the tiny cat stretched and meowed before rubbing her head against Connor’s palm.

Gavin gulped, but was unable to tear his eyes away from the display in front of him until Nugget decided she had had enough affection and jump down from the couch, waddling towards the bowl full of cat food standing near the arch leading into the kitchen.

For a few seconds, Connor seemed to be entirely somewhere else as his eyes trailed after Nugget, before he stood up again.

“I’m calling work, you’re in no shape to go there today,” he stated firmly, eyes locked onto Gavin.

He hated to have to agree with Connor, but the other was probably right.

“Do you want me to stay with you? In— in case there are any other complications with your concussion,” he added softly, but Gavin just shook his head.

“Just go to work, Connor. I can handle myself.”  _ Please go to work, please. I really need to get away from you and from this fucked up situation. _

“Alright. I’ll be right back,” Connor told him before leaving the room. For a few minutes that felt more like hours Gavin stood awkwardly in the living room, the only sound to be heard the filters of the fish tanks, until Connor returned. He was now fully dressed, his too big t-shirt and sweatpants exchanged for dress pants, a crisp, white dress shirt and a navy blue suit jacket, black dress shoes completing the outfit.

“You’re off of work today.” 

“Great. Where’s the liquor cabinet?” Gavin asked, walking towards the kitchen.

“I really need a fucking drink right now.”

“Gavin,” Connor began carefully, and the other turned around. “You stopped drinking years ago. Are you sure I shouldn’t stay with you? Maybe this is some sort of amnesia? The doctor did warn that hitting your head the way you did might affect your memories…” his voice trailed off.

“ _ What? _ ” What kind of hell was this? Did he at least have his cigarettes?

“Yes,” Connor nodded.

“What about my cigarettes?”

A sad expression flickered over Connor’s face, but it was gone as fast as it had come, his expression returning to a collected mask. The only thing giving him away now was his LED.

“You quit smoking, love. Over a year ago. Are you sure—”

_ He did what now?  _ He could barely keep himself from gagging.

“Please don’t fucking call me that,” he muttered. “Feels fucking  _ wrong _ .”

Connor nodded, hurt in his eyes barely hidden. It was like looking at a kicked puppy, and Gavin had to avert his eyes because the sight was so unbearable, even for someone who couldn’t stand the android.

“Just— just fucking go, alright?” Gavin snapped, becoming increasingly irritated. He just wanted to be fucking  _ alone _ .

“Gavin, are you sure I shouldn’t call the doctor? Or Mrs. Shelbey? I know you don’t need to visit her often anymore, but she really helped with your anger issues and maybe—”

“Connor what the fuck?! I don’t have fucking anger issues!” He almost shouted at the android, before he realized that he was basically negating his own point with his behavior. But there was nothing fucking  _ wrong _ with Gavin. Sure, he was a rude asshole, but he didn’t have  _ anger issues. _ And the fact that this version of him seemed to have been visiting a fucking shrink for him was just— No. Big fucking no.

“ _ Go to fucking work, alright? _ ”

“I— alright.” He seemed to be taken aback a bit. “I’ll be back around 5 p.m., be careful until then, okay?” Connor leaned forward, minimizing the distance between them. He his face moved closer as if he wanted to kiss the other and Gavin flinched away. The same sad and disappointed expression he had seen earlier snuck onto Connor’s face and Gavin almost felt guilty. But he simply couldn’t—

“I—” Connor began, before the words died in his throat and he backed away.  

“I’m sorry,” he whispered before turning around and walking right out of the door, not another word spoken between them. With a thud, the door fell shut and suddenly, Gavin was alone.

The first thing he did was walk about to where Nugget was still enjoying her breakfast and crouch down, fingers gently making their way to pet her little head.

“Hello there, girl,” he whispered. “Where’s Gil, huh?” In response, she simply meowed. Gavin smiled lightly and kept giving her affection for a few more seconds before he stood up again, determined to examine the house.

He needed to know how this version’s life had turned out like this, needed to know how this had happened.

The walls were decorated with photographs, similar to the ones he had seen in the bedroom. Photos of him and Connor, of Connor and Hank, of him and Chris and Tina. Of him and Elijah. He couldn’t remember any of these situations ever happening, but here they were, digital pictures in their respective frames.

He dragged his hand along the wall without even thinking about it before reaching out and taking off one of the frames.

It showed a variety of pictures cycling through, all of him and Connor. Them smiling into the camera next to each other in swimwear, Connor with a giant beach ball under his arm. Connor sitting on his desk at work, them talking and laughing.

Him asleep on Connor’s shoulder. The last one almost made him smile before he remembered who— what— the other person— android— in the picture was. He could barely belief any of this, could barely believe the happy expression on his face. The him in these photographs looked more content than Gavin had felt in  _ years _ . It was strange, seeing his own face which was usually distorted into a scowl smiling like this, freely and without worry.

A meow from behind made him turn around, and he couldn’t help but smile weakly when he saw Gilbert, the gray Maine Coon as fat and fluffy as always, running towards him and demanding attention.

Gavin was more than a bit glad that at least something was still the same. The frame still in hand he dropped down to the floor and began running his hand through Gilbert’s fur, which was as soft as ever.

He buried his nose in the animals neck, and Gilbert meowed happily at all the attention.

“How did I end up here, huh?” He asked the cat, full well knowing he wouldn’t receive an answer anyways.

“Absolutely nothing makes any fucking sense,” he continued. “Why the fuck are there so many fucking fish?”

He had never been one for fish— Cats and dogs, and possibly snakes. Those were the type of animals he liked and wanted to keep as pets. But fish? They just swam in their tank all day long and didn’t do shit.

“You probably like these fuckers, don’t you?”

Gilbert meowed in response and Gavin simply sighed, petting the cat again before picking up the picture frame once more.

The room felt unnaturally cold as he sat there on the floor, wooden frame in hand, pictures of a stranger that was him and not him at the same time cycling through it, his heart pounding against his ribcage and his eyes burning, hand running through Gilbert’s fur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! :0 Don't forget to leave me your thoughts, i'd love to know your opinion <3 Feel free to drop by and talk to me on tumblr [@unacceptable-bisexual](https://unacceptable-bisexual.tumblr.com)! I'm always happy to hear from you guys <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing is hard. I hope you enjoy this one while i try and fail to write the next one shdjasd huge thanks to Chibi for beta'ing <3

Gavin practically jumped up from his place on the couch when he heard a key turn in the door, flinching harder than he wanted to admit and scaring Gilbert off his lap.

He had spent the entire morning going through every photograph, every drawer, every piece of foreign memory that he could find. All the while, he had felt like an intruder, like he wasn’t supposed to be here, like he was doing something  _ wrong _ by trying to piece together the life of this version of him.

It was crazy, really, how widely different this life seemed from his — how much  _ happier _ this Gavin seemed. Photographs of him smiling were littering the rooms, just like the living room, post-it notes with little encouragements and reminders taped everywhere in the kitchen, cat toys lying around instead of filthy clothes and booze, books on the shelves — real, paper books, like the few ones he had kept from his childhood and adolescent years — and warm colors painting the whole environment into a warm and friendly one.

Something about searching through every niche and crook of the house had made him feel guilty, and once he felt like he had done enough searching to get a quick overview of the situation he had settled on the sofa, watching mindless reruns of trashy reality TV shows he usually only ever watched three beers in on a lonely Friday night.

This felt similar, he supposed. There was little that felt familiar about his situation, little he knew what to do with. Gilbert had quickly curled up on his lap while Nugget had preferred to continue bouncing around the living room, occasionally mewling loudly or jumping up a counter.

Apparently, he and Connor had gotten married just a few months prior as some photos of their wedding proved. It appeared to have been small, only their close friends and them.

Elijah had been there, much to Gavin’s discontent and surprise.

He couldn’t exactly tell how many years they had been dating prior, but it seemed to have been a bit now — how they had even become a thing, he didn’t know. And despite the fact that part of him was dying with curiosity for the sheer sake of solving this ridiculous mystery of how he would ever end up with the tin can, he kept telling himself that he didn’t  _ want _ to know.

As long as he got out of this situation quickly, it wouldn’t matter, anyway.

After a while, Gavin had attempted to take a nap on the comfortable couch, hoping that falling asleep and waking up again would make things return to normal. He had actually dozed off for a few minutes, only to find things exactly as they were.

Colorful curses had slipped from his lips when he woke up on the dark brown couch again, Gilbert on his chest, pawing his face, the TV still running.

His attention had simply returned to the ridiculous sob story broadcasted in front of him, the sound turning into white noise.

That was, until Connor returned.

When the android entered the house and closed the door behind him he looked exactly like he had this morning, his suit clean and crisp, a similar color blue to the one he had worn yesterday — a different yesterday, one that felt incredibly far away at this moment.

He took off his shoes and returned his keys to his pocket, Gilbert jumping up from Gavin’s chest and running towards the android to greet him happily, mewing and curling around his legs.

Connor crouched down and began petting Gilbert’s head with a faint smile, his hands softly running over the animal’s head.

The sight would’ve looked peaceful if it hadn’t been for Connor’s LED spinning with a worried yellow, contrasting with the blue of his suit and his pale skin.

It was strange to see the gray Maine Coon so affectionate with someone that wasn’t Gavin, the cat usually not all too fond of others. Not even Tina could really win the little bastard’s favor, and there Connor was — hand caressing Gilbert’s fur as if he had never done anything else. As if this was where he belonged, what he was supposed to do.

He scratched Gil’s chin a last time before standing up again, the cat still at his feet and rubbing against him. His eyes wandered over to Gavin.

“Hey.” A whisper, barely more. A quiet voice in a room where only the TV filled the silence, even Gilbert’s mewls had been coming to a halt as if the cat had sensed the tenseness of the situation.

“Hey,” Gavin returned hesitantly, immediately biting his lip. Should he have said that? Should he have kept quiet? Should he have ignored the other? Or was playing along the best thing he could do right now? Considering his other options — which, to be honest, weren’t really there — he supposed it was.

“How are you?” Connor asked, slowly stepping closer, carefully, as if Gavin was a frightened animal, ready to flee if startled. It felt… strange to have someone be so cautious around him, cautious, not because they feared he might hurt them out of sheer hatred or aggression, but cautious because they didn’t want to hurt  _ him _ .

“I’m — I’m better, I think,” he mumbled, not looking Connor in the eyes. He wouldn’t be able to stand seeing concern in those soft brown eyes again — Connor’s worry was the last thing he wanted. He was still desperately hoping he would simply wake up soon and discover that this had all been one terrible, too long dream. Or maybe an elaborate prank.

But at this rate, neither of those things was likely to happen.

With light steps Connor continued approaching him and Gavin couldn’t help but tense up when the android sat down on the couch next to him, swooping up Gilbert into his arms and burying his face in the animal’s fuzzy fur.

The room was silent, except for the TV playing in the background, giving noise to where nothing was. Connor’s hand seemed to twitch next to him, as if he wanted to do nothing more than to reach out to Gavin, to  _ touch _ him and Gavin immediately resented the thought.

He flinched when Connor’s fingers grazed his as the android brought up the hand that had been placed on the couch to give Gilbert even more attention, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes on his face as he snuggled with the cat.

The tension in the room felt thick enough that Gavin could’ve cut it with a knife if he had wanted to, and he tried his best to ignore the other sitting next to him in favor of focusing on the TV, on a young woman whose boyfriend had just cheated on her with her cousin who wasn’t actually her cousin but her half-brother. Some things never seemed to change, and soap-operas seemed to be one of them.

His mother had always loved to watch them.

Gavin swallowed thickly, a shiver running down his back. He didn’t want to think about his family, not now. And when Connor chose that exact moment to speak up, he was almost grateful.

“Did you — Did you do anything nice while at home?”

The question almost surprised him, but it really shouldn’t have — it was the exact kind of awkward small talk estranged couples made.

Not that they were an estranged couple, even if, in a weird way, they kinda were. The thought sent another shiver down Gavin’s spine.

“Are you cold? I could turn on the heating a bit further.”

“I’m fine,” Gavin spoke from behind gritted teeth, avoiding looking at Connor.

“Okay,” the other whispered, and they fell back into the uncomfortable silence that had settled on them. It took another ten minutes, each of which felt like hours until it was broken again, this time, by Gavin’s rumbling stomach.

“Have you eaten dinner already?”

Truth be told, he hadn’t. Had had neither dinner nor lunch nor breakfast. Nausea had taken over all day until he had finally settled onto the couch, body too tired to even think of getting up and cooking.

And even if he had truly wanted to — the thought of going into the kitchen to fix himself a meal felt  _ wrong _ . The house still felt too foreign, and even after all his snooping and searching he didn’t feel comfortable enough with using the kitchen that didn’t feel like it belonged to him.

And he still didn’t know the address, so ordering food was out of the question too. That he could’ve simply used his phone’s GPS to figure out his location never once passed his mind.

“Gavin?”

He shook his head, words stuck in his throat.

“You should eat something,” Connor said gently, and Gavin had to swallow hard. He didn’t want the tin can’s worry, didn’t want his care — didn’t want  _ anyone’s _ care. He was an adult; he could take care of himself, strange, fucked up situation or not.

The rumbling of his stomach seemed to disagree.

Connor appeared to hesitate for a few seconds before he got to his feet, gently placing Gilbert on the couch.

“Wait here,” he said. “I’ll make you something.”

“I’m not—”  _ I’m not a fucking kid, I don’t need a babysitter,  _ he wanted to say but Connor had turned around and was walking away before he could finish the sentence. Maybe the android had known that Gavin would protest and didn’t feel like arguing. 

It was strange, not arguing with Connor. None of their conversations at the precinct had ever been civil, all he had done was trying to rile Connor up, and usually, failing.

Rumbling could be heard from the kitchen, pans and pot and kitchen utensils being moved around, vegetables being chopped. From where he was sitting, Gavin couldn’t see what was going on in the kitchen, but he didn’t need to. Didn’t want to. Had absolutely no interest in seeing Connor be so grossly domestic, especially not for him. Cooking hadn’t been something he had ever imagined Connor doing.

To him, seeing the android anywhere but at the station or at crime scenes felt out of place. All Connor ever had been in his mind was an android built for Detective work, similar to the beat cop ‘droids they had at the station, but more advanced. More of a threat to him, to his livelihood. A nuisance, an obstacle to overcome.

But never someone who even existed outside of a work environment. The few times he had tried to picture what Connor and Hank might be getting up to in their free time had left him with empty pictures in his head. This change of setting felt off, as if something wasn’t quite right. It was hard reconciling the knowledge of the android cooking in the kitchen with the usual image he had of the other.

It didn’t take long for the smell of food to overtake the room, first only onions and garlic, then slowly meat.

He had absolutely no idea what Connor was making, and part of him wondered where the android had learned to cook at all. Had Hank taught him? Had  _ Gavin _ ?

The TV was still filling the room with background noise, mostly overpowered by rustling from the kitchen. The soap had ended, and some pseudo science documentary about androids and aliens had started. Gavin reached for the remote and began zapping through the channels. The last thing he wanted right now was to listen to conspiracy theories about his brother’s stupid creation, not while one of them was just a room away, making dinner for him.

Oh, Eli would have a blast if he knew about this, he thought bitterly as he ran his free hand through Gilbert’s fur. Or at least, the Eli of his reality would. This one seemed to be in the know about his relationship with Connor — the thought still felt so utterly weird that even thinking it was difficult — and from what he had gathered so far, he didn’t seem to have any negative opinion towards it. Even seemed to be on a first-name basis with Connor.

He stopped his cycling through the TV program at an older crime show rerun, one of those he had loved to bits as a kid and teen, before he had become a cop himself. Now, he usually turned it into a drinking game, one for each horrible inaccuracy of the criminal justice system, two for each time the characters blatantly violated the law themselves to get their hands on evidence that wouldn’t even be usable in court anymore now.

But now, there was no alcohol available for him, because apparently, this version of him had quit drinking and smoking all together. Had Hank quit drinking too? He knew the old man had been drinking less and coming in more and more on time over the past three years, but he had no idea how things were here.

If it counted towards anything, he had sounded sober when the two had talked on the phone this morning.

Gavin shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts with the motion before freezing.

Something smelled off. Smelled… burned.

“Gavin, could you—” Connor’s voice came from the kitchen, only to be cut off by loud beeping. “Turn of the smoke detector,” he finished his sentence lamely, poking his head into the living room.

“Fucking hell.”

Shooing Gilbert off his lap, Gavin stood up and made his way towards the kitchen. “Where is it?”

Using his thumb, Connor pointed of the small device above their heads, a sheepish expression on his face.

Gavin grabbed a chair and watched as Connor returned to the stove, now hastily pulling off the pan and opening a window. Shaking his head, he climbed onto the piece of furniture and since he didn’t know how to disable the little device, he took out the battery.

So much for Connor knowing how to cook.

“What happened?” Gavin asked once his feet were on steady ground again, placing the smoke detector on one of the counters. Connor looked up from where he was shoveling the burned contents of a frying pan into the trash.

“I simply overestimated the time the meat would need to brown,” he replied, sounding calm even though there was a hint of defensiveness in his voice.

“And you didn’t fucking notice that the room was beginning to fill with smoke?”

“No, as you may be aware, I don’t possess the capability to smell. I was cutting vegetables and didn’t watch the stove.”

Definitely defensive. It almost sounded like the Connor he was used to, prickly and quick to retort to his rudeness with dry answers.

“I’m sorry,” Connor added, and Gavin could feel himself squirm. Apologizing wasn’t something that happened between them, and now Connor had apologized to him multiple times already.

His stomach grumbled again, and damn, if the smell of food hadn’t made him hungry earlier.

Suppressing a sigh, he made a decision.

“I — I can help you if you want to.”

Connor looked at him, clearly stunned. Before he could second-guess it, Gavin crossed his arms and looked at Connor. “What were you making anyways?”

“Pasta,” the other replied. “I’m really sorry, Gavin. I was not built with the idea of cooking or other household tasks in mind, and — “

“Yeah, yeah, it’s whatever.” He waved his hand dismissively, not wanting to hear about Connor being sorry any longer. Was he really about to help the tin can cook? Pride be damned, he was hungry.

“Do you still have enough meat?”

“Yes, there should still be some in the fridge, I didn’t use all of it. It should be enough for one person.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Gavin grinned, tearing open the fridge and rummaging through it. “Where—”

“Upper rack, left-hand side.” He hated the fact that Connor had known exactly what he had wanted to know, even though it had probably been obvious.

Once he had grabbed the remainder of the meat, he pushed the fridge door shut again and when he turned around, Connor was already back to dicing onions — where he had gotten new ones so quickly and without Gavin noticing, he didn’t know.

Gavin pushed up his sleeves, washed his hands and began rummaging the kitchen for oil and a fresh pan, unwilling to ask Connor for it. He didn’t need the android’s help, not with such a trivial task.

They moved through the kitchen quietly, only the sound of Gavin opening and closing cupboards and drawers and Connor’s knife against the cutting board to be heard. The TV was still playing in the background, giving off just enough noise to fill the tense silence between them.

After a while, Gavin finally found all he needed and set down the pan on the stove, pouring in oil and the onion Connor had cut up, frying it. The scent almost made him tear up, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Connor smiling faintly as the android continued to chop garlic.

He held back and didn’t curse the other for laughing at him, adding garlic and then minced meat to the pan. Tomatoes followed, and they kept silent.

When was the last time he had cooked with someone else? Had shared a kitchen like this, worked with someone towards the common goal of a simple meal? Or well, he thought, glancing towards Connor halving cherry tomatoes, as common as it could be when one of the two didn’t need to eat. He genuinely couldn’t remember and the thought left a strange, hollow feeling in his chest.

Even with Tina, they had always gotten unhealthy takeout, sprawled out on Gavin’s old-raggedy couch that used to be theirs before she had moved out to live with her girlfriend and watched sports games or action movies each with a beer in hand, sitting there until one or both of them passed out, more than once waking up with a shitty back ache and a buzzing head.

But this? Cooking something that was healthier than anything he had eaten in the last few years, especially when taking into account the salad Connor was preparing just now, was something else entirely.

It felt — domestic, of course it did. It was supposed to be, them cooking together in their house. Even if it wasn’t really his house, not his reality and Connor wasn’t actually his husband. But for a moment it actually felt nice to do such a menial task with someone else instead of shoveling instant noodles into his mouth and drinking what was probably too much alcohol for having to work the next day.

Put that way, his usual evening sounded incredibly sad, and he preferred not to contemplate it further, instead concentrating on not letting the contents of the pan burn again.

Connor walked over and added the tomatoes and Gavin avoided the other’s searching eyes.

LED pulsing yellow Connor reached into one of the cabinets and pulled out a bunch of pasta noodles, then went and got another pot to cook them.

Humming quietly, Gavin continued to stir the pan with the sauce, trying to ignore the sudden proximity between them when Connor put the pot full of water onto the stove and turned it up. He had never realized the unnatural heat the android seemed to radiate now, despite being close to him more than once, though in a less calm and friendly setting.

Images of him punching the other in the gut in the break room, holding a gun to his head not once, but twice and him angrily grabbing his collar popped up in his mind and he winced internally. The same person he had threatened just yesterday was standing next to him, cooking with him, currently salting the water for the pasta. If that wasn’t surreal, then he didn’t know what was.

He tasted the sauce and added a bit more salt and some oregano, allowing himself to glance at Connor. The other’s artificial body was as tense as Gavin felt, even he could see that. Why?  _ He’s probably afraid of how you’re gonna react to him, _ a traitorous voice in mind supplied, and Gavin grunted, trying to ignore it.

Of course he’d be, he then thought. With the way Gavin had constantly flinched away from him or snapped at him it was no wonder that Connor was cautious now.

Gavin sighed, relieved when Connor moved away from him to fix a dressing for the salad he had prepared, something Gavin couldn’t even remember when he had last eaten it. It looked suspiciously like the stuff he had seen Hank eat at work a while ago.

Had that been Connor’s doing? It must have been — there was no way in hell Hank would have started eating more healthily on his own. When it came to eating habits, Gavin really had no right to judge his superior officer.

A few more minutes and both the sauce and the noodles were ready to be taken off the stove, the dinner table was being readied, and he was able to sit down, pouring a gracious amount of both onto his plate, the salad next to him.

To his surprise — though it really shouldn’t have been, he chastised himself — Connor sat down opposite of him observing as Gavin shoved an inhuman amount of pasta into his mouth.

“Whafh?”

“Nothing,” Connor replied, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Can you maybe not fucking stare at me like that?”

Connor’s cheeks tinted blue. “I’m sorry. It’s just —” he seemed to struggle for words. “It’s just that this is the first time today things feel normal,” he whispered, now avoiding Gavin’s glance. The other swallowed, unable to look at Connor any longer.

He didn’t know what to say, so instead he kept wolfing down his food despite how uncomfortable he now felt, washing it down with a big gulp of water.  _ Water. _ Who even drank that stuff? Him now, apparently. What he really missed at the moment was his diet Coke or beer.

“One question,” he said between bites, unable to contain his weird curiosity any longer.

“Why the fuck are there so many fish?”

Connor was quiet for a minute, and Gavin was already ready to assume that he wouldn’t get a reply, that he had asked something he shouldn’t have. Was there something special about the animals? Or was it just that he was supposed to know this, but didn’t? The pained look in Connor’s eyes when he looked at Gavin again was enough of an answer.

“I — I thought I told you about this before, but —” hesitation — “I think the first decision I ever made on my own was saving a fish.”

“A fish?”

“Yes. My first mission. I don’t like to think about it but — the fish holds importance to me. And, I like them.” He smiled. “That’s why there — that’s why  _ we _ have so many of them.”

Gavin averted his eyes and shoveled another bite of pasta into his mouth, tense silence stretching between them again.

“Do you remember our first date?” Connor asked suddenly, completely out of the blue, and Gavin almost choked on his food. The android threw him a concerned glance as he gasped for air for a second.

“I simply mean, your memory seems to be affected by the concussion you suffered,” he added once he was sure Gavin wouldn’t die of asphyxiation any time soon. Even Gavin had to admit, the explanation Connor had created for his strange behavior made more sense than Gavin’s own, the sadness and worry in the other’s eyes making him squirm.

“What exactly happened to my head?” He asked without thinking.

“You chased a suspect who ran away, he threw something at you and you fell, hit your head hard enough to need stitches,” Connor explained very matter-of-factly, lips pressed together to a thin line.

“You were on medical leave for a week to make sure there weren’t any long-term effects of the injury, and you should have started work again today, but…” he trailed off. “ _ But now you don’t seem to remember anything about us anymore," _ remained unspoken, but Gavin could clearly hear it.

“I want to go back to work,” he stated firmly. The house was making him sick, he felt like an intruder and there was absolutely nothing he could in here. Gilbert and Nugget were small silver linings, but maybe work would help him get back into some normalcy.

“Are you sure about that?” Connor sounded sceptic, and Gavin couldn’t even blame him. Hell, if their roles had been reverse, and had Connor been human, since he wasn’t sure whether androids could suffer concussions, he would’ve doubted the other’s ability to return to duty already as well.

“Yes. Maybe — maybe doing what I always do will, y’know, help my memory?” he attempted, hoping the argument would be compelling enough for Connor. Not that he needed the tin can’s permission to go to work, but it would be much easier this way than having to fight with him. From previous experience he knew Connor was much stronger than he was.

The android seemed to contemplate for a few seconds, LED cycling the same yellow it had been all the time Gavin had seen him, before his shoulders relaxed and he nodded. “Alright. But you promise me to take it slow, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Gavin replied dismissively, taking another bite of his food.

“Did you text Elijah?”

“Why the fuck should I?”

“He’s just as worried as I am. You really should talk to him.” Yeah, sure. As if the fucking bastard had ever really cared for him. It was one thing to talk to Connor right now, to pretend this was normal. It was another thing entirely to text his brother whom he hadn’t talked to civilly since they were in their teens.

“I’ll do it later,” he promised, no intention of keeping it. Connor didn’t appear to be entirely convinced, but he nodded nonetheless, fingers nervously tapping on the table as Gavin continued to eat, even occasionally taking a bite of salad.

He had to admit, the food wasn’t half bad, was actually better than anything he had eaten in probably years. Not that he’d say that out loud. He could even live with the greens.

When he finished, he felt as if he was about to burst, and they cleaned the table in silence once more, Gavin loading the dishwasher and Connor putting away the leftovers into the fridge.

Gavin truly hated how domestic it felt.

Why exactly they settled on the couch again afterwards he didn’t know, his muscles tense as he sat next to Connor, watching an old movie that had followed after the crime show he had been watching.

Gilbert and Nugget’s occasional meows disturbed his engrossment in the happenings on the screen, but there was nothing he could do. He even felt himself relax ever so slightly, felt himself almost alright with sitting on the couch here with someone else, even if that someone was Connor.

The android continued to carefully keep his distance, and he had to say he was glad about it.

Gavin could even almost forget about the whole situation, almost. That was, until Connor spoke up again, smiling slightly and pointing towards the screen with his thumb.

“The face he’s making,” Connor started, voice quiet and nostalgic as he watched the character’s eyes widen in surprise at something his love interest had said to him.

“It looks almost exactly the way you looked when I first asked you out.”

Unsure how to respond, Gavin remained silent, eyes trained onto the TV screen. Connor had asked him out? Part of him was dying to know more, but — why should he even care?

“Remember? Just — Just a few months after the revolution. You had made some absolutely stupid joke, and —” his voice died down.

“I’m sorry.” Gavin heard rustling next to him and turned his head, only to see Connor stand up. “I shouldn’t have — you don’t have to — I’m — I’m sure you’re tired,” Connor concluded, fumbling with his hands. The look in his eyes was heartbreaking, ridden with fear and worry and so much sadness.

Was it truly possible to simulate emotions like this? Gavin wondered briefly as he looked at Connor who was still standing in front of him and suddenly, heavy guilt started to spread in his chest.

Android or not, Connor or not, no one should have to look like this.

“It’s fine,” Gavin said quietly, not knowing what else to tell him. Connor nodded in response.

The question of sleep was another problem he hadn’t thought about previously, but there was no way he could share a bed with Connor. He didn’t know much about androids, but if he remembered correctly from what he had seen this morning before he had hurried out in a panic, they did seem to sleep, in a way.

And sleeping next to Connor wasn’t something he wanted to do, even though the android was right: All the stress of today had tired him out, more than a bit.

“I think,” he began, swallowing thickly, knowing that his next words were going to hurt the other even more. “I’m going to sleep on the couch.”

Connor flinched ever so slightly and Gavin immediately felt bad, even though it seemed stupid — maybe he still had more decent human being in him than he had thought, if hurting someone he couldn’t stand bothered him.

“Okay,” Connor replied quietly, looking at him for a few more seconds.

“I’ll — I’ll go get you a blanket and some pillows.”

Before Gavin could thank him, the android walked out of the room and Gavin was left alone on the couch.

Connor returned with the promised things just about half a minute later and Gavin stood up to allow the android to place them on the couch. Once the makeshift bed had been set up, he looked at Connor.

“Thank you,” he mumbled again.

“No need to thank me,” Connor replied, and Gavin could see that he was trying to smile. He failed miserably. Had he been human, Gavin suspected, tears would have been in his eyes by now.  _ Could androids cry? _ He wondered, even though he had no particular interest in finding out.

The silence between them lasted for a few more seconds before Gavin sat down again.

“Good night, I guess,” he said as nonchalantly as possible.

“Good night,” Connor whispered, and for a moment Gavin thought he might reach out to try and touch him, try to show affection again.

He was thankful when the other didn’t. Was thankful when Connor finally left the room and he felt like he could breathe again.

Gavin stripped down to his boxers and slipped under the covers, trying to make himself for comfortable on the couch.

The TV was still playing as if nothing had happened.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!! Hello!! I bring you, chapter 4! I actually had to rewrite it after the first versoin bc i really didn't like it, but i think i'm mostly happy with this one.  
> Hope you enjoy <3
> 
> BTW, for those who might be confused: I just changed my username asdashdjas

He awoke with a groan, pain shooting through his shoulders and neck as he turned, trying to swat away the all too gentle hand on his arm.

When he lazily cracked open his eyes he found Connor standing in front of him, an apologetic smile on his lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“We need to go to work,” he said quietly, hand slowly letting go of Gavin.

_ Work _ .  _ Yeah. _

He had been so eager to return to work just yesterday, but now, in his sleepy haze he wasn’t so sure anymore.

At his lack of response Connor’s smile fell a bit, and he stood up from where he had been crouching next to the couch.

“There’s breakfast in the kitchen,” he said before turning his back to Gavin and returning to his — their? — bedroom.

Despite his lack of appetite Gavin quickly wolfed down the breakfast Connor had prepared — eggs and toast, simple but a thoughtful gesture that Gavin really didn’t want to dwell on —, mostly because he didn’t feel like fighting with Connor.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to ask Connor which toothbrush to use — there was only one in the bathroom since the android didn’t eat and therefor, didn’t need to brush his teeth.

How he cleaned his mouth after sticking evidence between his lips, however, was a question Gavin didn’t want to think about.

What was staring at him from the mirror now were those same, tired gray eyes, the same grumpy face. The scar on his nose was still the same, stretching over parts of his cheeks.

He would need to shave soon, he though, scratching his stubble before carefully touching his forehead.

Nothing there.

No stitches, no scar.

Could he use the absence of an injury as prove that something about this whole ordeal wasn’t right?

But at least this meant he was still in his own body, he thought, spitting out the toothpaste, not stuck in what would essentially amount to a stranger’s.

He was almost thankful for the fact that Connor had gotten him a shirt and a fresh pair of jeans to wear, alongside a pair of plain, black boxers and socks resting on the back of the couch when he returned from the bathroom.

There was little he wanted to do less right now than enter his and Connor’s bedroom.

The thought made him feel all kinds of weird, even if it disturbed him a bit how well Connor seemed to know his way of dressing, the clothes laid out being something he himself would’ve picked as well.

Figures though. This Connor had been married to another version of Gavin for a bit now.

Gavin quickly grabbed the pile of clothing and disappeared into the bathroom to put them on, then slipped into his shoes and jacket near the door.

Connor was already waiting for him, key in hand. They nodded towards each other before leaving the house, and for a small moment Gavin felt like this was okay.

The feeling was gone as fast as it had come and he stepped towards the car, having to face the world, ready or not.

Neither of them spoke during the car drive, Gavin’s head leaning against the cool glass of the window (the passenger side. He had agreed to let Connor drive when he had realized that the car wasn’t the same old, shitty one he usually drove).

When Connor parked the car in the DPD parking lot Gavin practically jumped out, throwing open the door with just a bit too much force, enough to make Connor wince.

Gavin ignored it and instead started walking towards the precinct, not even waiting for the other.

Of course he would catch up to him. There was no real point in standing around and waiting, and he wanted to escape the tense atmosphere between them as fast as possible.

Unlike it had last time, the door slid open effortlessly. No hint of pouring rain, no wind to chill him right down to his bones, just Connor standing next to him, not a bit out of breath from having to jog after the other.

Fucking bastard.

Gavin hesitated for a moment, uncertainty taking hold of him again.

He should simply go inside. He worked here, did so every day.

This would be the most normal thing he had done since, well, yesterday morning.

Had it really been only yesterday morning when his whole world had been turned upside down? It was hard to fathom that so much could change in so little time.

Connor’s glance lingered on him for a second and Gavin gulped, taking the first step inside. And another. Warmth engulfed him, coating him in a cozy embrace, Connor following right behind him.

He could understand what Anderson meant when he called Connor a goddamn poodle on more than one occasion.

With a shake of his head he went on, trying to hide the slight tremble of his hands. To his right, a friendly voice, the same receptionist he was used to, greeted him, but he didn’t dignify it with a response. Just like always.

Instead of looking indifferent, however, her friendly smile fell, only to be replaced by a look of confusion and hurt.

Huh.

The waiting area was empty as he walked past it and entered the bullpen, trying to put as much distance between himself and Connor as possible, but not enough to look too suspicious.

Few people were there so far, not that it was a surprise; Connor had torn him out of his fitful slumber pretty early.

He could see two androids he recognized but didn’t know the name to chatting by where the charging pods used to be, Officer Person and her partner in the break room, Ben Collins leaning against the edge of his desk, reading through a case file.

Hank’s desk (or what he assumed to be still Hank’s desk) was empty, Chris and Tina nowhere to be found.

Collins looked up when he heard the two of them entering, and Gavin expected to be ignored or thrown a dirty look, maybe — after all, he had never really gotten along with his colleagues. He gritted his teeth, ready to insult the other when he felt a hand on his arm. Connor had apparently noticed his tenseness.

Instead of doing anything a decent human being would do he shook it off, earning a confused look from Collins before the other smiled.

“Morning Connor, Gavin,” he greeted.

“Morning, Ben.” Even Gavin could tell that Connor’s cheerfulness wasn’t real.

He had been dead set on ignoring the greeting when he felt an elbow nudging against his rips. He swallowed.

“Morning.” It was barely more than a grumble, but it had to count for something.

Before anyone could comment on his behavior he practically fled towards the break room, leaving Connor to stand there with Collins. Should the android explain what was going on, Gavin sure as hell didn’t feel like it.

All he wanted right now was a goddamn cup of coffee, one that he hadn’t had this morning, He passed Person and Stephen, her android partner, taken aback slightly when they too, were quick to greet him and wish him a good day before leaving to go on patrol.

It was strange to be treated like this by his colleagues, like someone who was actually part of the team instead of an annoyance they had to work with. Someone likeable, even. Not as if they were just waiting for him to have some sort of outburst, waiting for him to insult them or make a snide comment towards someone and ready to throw them under the bus for his own career’s sake.

Not that he had ever given them much reason to think differently of him. Not with how quick he was to anger, with the way he talked to and behaved around the androids, around Connor especially, with his aggressive behavior and his tendency to not mind stepping on a few toes to get what he wanted.

With a sigh, he decided to ignore the slight ache in his chest and not contemplate it further.

Careful not to repeat last time’s mess he placed a mug — his favorite one, he thanked every god he could think of that it existed here as well — into the machine and waited, emptying not one, but two packets of sugar into it. From where he was standing he could see Connor sitting at his desk, his usual desk, shooting him a disapproving glance.

To hell with him, Gavin would pour as much sugar into his coffee as he pleased and like a petulant child, he tore open a third packet.

With his mug in hand he began walking towards his usual desk, feeling Connor’s eyes following him the whole time. Connor’s desk had looked different, he had noticed. Even more personalized. There were more photos, more little plants, statuettes and notes.

When he saw his own one he almost dropped the mug he was holding, spilling a tiny bit of hot coffee over his fingers.

Cursing, he set it down and used the hem of his shirt to dry off his hand before examining his desk.

That his desk looked different now was an understatement.

Gone was the meticulous order of files and pens being the only thing allowed on it, gone the almost clinical orderliness of it.

Instead, it was a cluttered mess of pictures and stickers, tickets to zoos, museums, aquariums and movies taped to the wall, as well as motivational little notes and reminders, all written in either perfect CyberLife Sans or his own, chicken scratch handwriting, little plants that simply screamed  _ Connor _ . A photograph of him and Connor and his — their? — cats was standing right next to his nameplate.

He was glad that he had already set down his coffee because he was sure he would’ve dropped it as soon as his eyes fell onto the piece of plastic.

The name on it was still the same as always, Reed, but what had he expected? Even in this fucked up reality where Hank didn’t seem to hate him, Connor was married to him and his colleagues treated him nicely (which was, admittedly, weirdly nice) he wouldn’t dare take on what was essentially Hank’s name, even if the old man had basically adopted the android a while after the revolution.

But the title.

_ Sergeant Reed _ .

In all capital letters, irreversibly etched into the material. He looked at it dumbfounded, mouth gaping open, reaching out to touch it.

Him. A Sergeant. He couldn’t even remember how long he had been pining for the position, how much he had waited and hoped and wanted (but never begged — he wasn’t that pathetic, no matter how eager he was for the position) to be allowed to sit the Sergeant exam. Fowler had always held it over his head that he needed to become more of a team-player, needed to change his attitude and work with others instead of acting like he was a lone wolf.

There was a reason why he hadn’t had a partner in quite some time now.

And there had always been the unspoken, but nevertheless there problem of the way he behaved towards the androids.

Now that they were considered living beings the way he acted towards them was considered wrong, but he had always refused to budge.

Apparently, things had gone a bit differently here.

He shouldn’t be so confused about it, he thought as he made his way around the desk and finally sat down in the familiar swivel chair. This Gavin seemed to be nicer, more pleasant in general. Had even married a tin can. How could he had not been allowed to sit the exam?

_ ”You’re a good Detective,” _ Fowler had always said.  _ ”But that’s not enough.” _

Oh, how he had hated those words. Had loathed every little syllable, had wished Fowler the worst of the worst each time they were spoken.

What did it matter that he wasn’t a fan of androids, that he wasn’t buying into their little charade of emotions?

Connor’s face flashed in his mind for a second, eyes full of hurt and confusion as Gavin had pushed him away time and time again since yesterday morning and Gavin swallowed hard, trying to squash the doubt that was starting to creep up on him.

They were highly advanced machines, surely it would be possible for them to simulate emotions like that.

Or would it?

Gavin took a gulp from his too sweet coffee and tentatively touched the back of his nameplate.

Connor had looked so  _ real _ though, and perhaps that was what disturbed him the most. That the android’s emotions had looked real enough for him to feel bad, to feel guilty for hurting him. That he had managed to make Gavin consider his pain  _ real. _

It really wasn’t fair, he thought. Really wasn’t fair how this version of him seemed to be so much  _ happier _ , so much more well-liked and even more successful than he was.

All Gavin had ever done, all the antagonizing, the rudeness towards his colleagues had all been done to advance his career, and out of fear of someone else swooping in and stealing what was rightfully his.

Maybe he needed to reconsider that approach. If it wasn’t too late for that already.

Not even the fact that this Gavin was happily married was fair, even if it was Connor whom he was married to. Connor. All he had ever done was bully the other, insult and demean him whenever he could. Why the android would ever be willing to marry any version of him was a mystery. After everything Gavin had done, after their shared history.

Was there history even the same one here? Where did this timeline separate from his one?

The thought was making his head hurt with how absurd it sounded.  _ Parallel reality. Alternative timeline. _ Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. But it wasn’t as if there was a better explanation for what was happening.

A part of him would even be willing to buy into Connor’s concussion explanation, but in a way, that one made even less sense than his own.

The dates still matched, it was still early 2042, just like it had been when he had gotten into that fight with Connor.

When he had once again, shown the world that he was the asshole everyone thought he was.

Gavin sighed deeply and let go of the nameplate, gulping down the rest of his now lukewarm coffee. The bullpen was beginning to come to life with more and more people entering and leaving, talking at their desks, people waving at him and greeting him.

Involuntarily his eyes wandered over to where Connor was sitting, hand pressed against his terminal, skin deactivated where he was touching it, brows furrowed together in concentration.

The thing that threw him off the most was the nameplate on Connor’s desk.

_ Detective Reed _ .

So he had been right in the assumption that Connor had taken his name. It was strange to imagine still, still made his skin tingle with discomfort.

_ Connor Reed _ .

He spoke the name, tried it on his tongue. It felt strange, more than a bit, the words spoken in a hushed whisper to avoid anyone hearing it. Not even Connor with his android hearing seemed to notice, Gavin thought, relieved, as he continued to watch the android.

Connor’s focus seemed on his terminal, and his terminal alone, none of his attention left for the other.

Or maybe he did that one purpose, didn’t  _ want _ to look at the man who was supposed to love him but didn’t.

He looked the same as always, Gavin mused. Still the same brown eyes, no sign of age, no receding hairline or wrinkles on his handsome face.

Instead, he looked softer. Looked more  _ human _ , even more so than he already did. The Connor Gavin was used to always had an air of stiffness around him, his movement and facial expressions still too robotic. This one seemed more — organic, for a lack of a better term, the only thing separating him from a human was the LED on his head and his peeled-back skin where he touched his terminal.

His LED, that was still yellow. Gavin hadn’t seen it turn back to its usual blue ever since he had woken up here, and he knew that he was the reason for it. Knew that it was his fault that the little light on the other’s temple was stuck like this.

And a small part of him didn’t want to be responsible for it, to be the one that caused the android this sort of reaction.

He preferred not having anything to do with the other, but this version of him seemed to disagree.

On the other side of the room Connor bit his lip in concentration, but didn’t look up. A shaky breath escaped Gavin’s lips at the realization that he was still staring at the android, though he was relieved that he hadn’t been caught.

“Quit ogling your husband, Gav.”

Or apparently, he had been.

Tina’s voice made him whip his head around and there she was, standing in front of him in all her glory, looking exactly the same as usually.

“Tina!” He practically exclaimed, happy to see her.

“Woah there,” she grinned. “You really missed me that much, huh?”

“You have no idea,” he responded, glad that there was finally someone he was familiar with. Really familiar with. Someone he knew how to talk to, someone he was  _ used to _ .

“Guess medical leave does that to someone.”

“Yeah,” he agreed lamely.

“Your stitches seem to be healing pretty well though, woah. Can’t even see them anymore. How’s your head doing?”

“Fine.”

“And you and Connor? I’m guessing if you’re staring at him like that again your fight’s resolved?”

“Kinda? I think we — we just need a bit of distance after that.” He fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve, hoping she would buy the lousy explanation for why she wouldn’t be seeing him and the android be lovey-dovey any time soon. Part of him really wished he had kept at that drama class he had taken at high school.

“Ah, I see. You’ll be okay again, this isn’t the first rough patch you two have managed to get out of.” Her assurance only served to make him feel worse.

“Yeah,” he replied lamely.

Tina nodded, stemming her hands into her hips.

“Have you even started working yet?” Gavin more than welcomed the change of subject.

She walked around so she was standing right behind his chair before shaking her head. “Of course you haven’t, too busy staring at your hubby.”

Gavin could feel heat creeping up his neck and cheeks. “Tina!” he hissed.

“Don’t worry, I’m just teasing. I need to run away, so I’ll leave you to it. Though you better start doing some actual work before Fowler comes out of his glass box and skins your ass.”

With a grin she reached out and disheveled his hair, earning her a few spluttered curses before she left with a little wave of her hand.

Gavin wanted nothing more than to hold onto her.

The conversation topic of Connor had always been awkward, albeit for different reasons. Tina wasn’t too fond of the way he still treated the android. She had come around fairly quickly after the revolution, even apologizing to the tin can, something Gavin just couldn’t see himself do.

But she knew that trying to change his mind was a useless endeavor, so she had mostly given up.

Still, he missed her, and having her here for a few minutes only further cemented that. Chatting with Tina had been the closest he had come to normal in over 24 hours now.

Normal was all he desperately wanted right now, all he couldn’t have.

Was his counterpart in his place too? Was it just him? Was this all even real, or was he going absolutely insane?

His head collided with the desk, the loud  _ thud _ causing Connor to look up, glancing over to Gavin worriedly.

Once he noticed, he shrugged, as if he wanted to say “Well, what can ya do?” before ignoring the other again.

Feeling Connor’s eyes still on him he turned on his terminal, determined to do at least  _ something _ . Maybe he could read through case files, could fill out some paperwork.

Not that he suddenly hated paperwork any less, but it would be better than doing nothing at all.

The time it took for his computer to boot up seemed to stretch into eternity, and Gavin was all too aware of the pair of soft, brown eyes following his every movement. He felt himself squirm under the other’s gaze, biting his tongue as not to snap at the other and shout at him to cut the shit through the whole bullpen.

He didn’t feel like having to get into even more explaining, didn’t feel like receiving even more weird looks. So instead of reacting like he usually would have he just kept his attention on his terminal.

Part of him felt proud for holding back, for not impulsively jumping to insult the other like he usually would have.

The names and dates and case numbers blurred in front of his eyes, didn’t make any sense.

What was his counterpart like? When had his history started to differ from his? Had they had the same upbringing? Had he been the same asshole as Gavin, but had changed someone along the line?

He was happier, that at least Gavin had been able to deduct from the pictures, not that that had been hard. It was obvious to anyone with half a brain who had looked at them, who compared them to how miserable Gavin looked with the bags under his eyes and the constant frown on his face.

Had his counterpart apologized to Connor? Or had he never antagonized him at all?

Despite not wanting to admit it, he found himself incredibly curious, itching to walk over to Connor and ask him every single question that was plaguing his mind.

Maybe he’ll get the chance for that later.

For now, he thought, shaking his head, he needed to try and work.

The clock ticked by as Gavin stared at his terminal, barely understanding a word he was reading.

None of these cases sounded even remotely similar to those Gavin had worked on before this whole mess.

_ A murder suicide, the victim an android. _ Wasn’t that usually Connor and Hank’s area? Hank, who had come in to work just a bit ago, Gavin had tried to ignore his stares as best as he could.

Hank looked — different. Looked cleaner and healthier than he did in his own version of things. This Connor seemed to have achieved even more than the other one did, it seemed.

Did his counterpart look different as well?

If he did, it couldn’t be by much, otherwise someone would’ve said something already.

_ Click, another file. A young woman, mugged and almost beaten to death. The pictures looked horrifying. _

He felt horrible, using these incidents to take his mind off of what he was dealing with right now.

_ An anti-android group burning androids. Only two of the victims had survived. _

Gavin felt himself gag, bile rising in his throat. He had never been a fan of androids, but this — this was decidedly too far.

He couldn’t tell how long he had been staring at case files, despite the mess in his mind they had slowly started to make more and more sense and he had even managed to complete some of the paperwork other him had left unfinished, engrossed enough that he didn’t notice the shadow looming over his desk at first.

When he looked up, his eyes met soft, brown ones.

Connor stood in front of him awkwardly for a few seconds before the android cleared his throat. “Would you like to get lunch with me, Gavin?”

“I thought you couldn’t eat,” Gavin shot back, raising an eyebrow.

Connor’s LED, still stuck on yellow, he noticed, pulsated quickly.

“I do not possess the capability to eat, that is right. But —” he hesitated — “We usually always get lunch together, so I was hoping…” His voice became quieter, died down towards the end, and Gavin felt a pang of guilt at the hurt in Connor’s eyes.

He sighed. Apparently, this was his normal now.

“Alright, let’s go,” he agreed, pushing back his chair and grabbing his jacket. In front of him, Connor’s eyes widened in surprise before a faint smile made its way onto his lips.

Fucker. He had no right to be this happy about Gavin doing something simple as agreeing to get lunch with him.

He could feel Hank’s glance on him as they left the precinct in silence, careful to never brush their hands against each other’s.

The little diner they picked out to have lunch was bustling with life. Thankfully the line moved fast enough for them (or rather, Gavin) to be able to place their (read: his) order before their break was over.

They sat down at one of the few empty booths, sitting opposite of each other as Gavin dug into his burger. He had to admit, it definitely tasted better than anything he had ever gotten from a cheap fast food joint, even if Connor looked at him with slight judgment in his eyes as Gavin gobbled down the food.

For a while, they sat without talking, Gavin eating and Connor watching him. Apart from the fact that it felt weird to have someone stare at him like this it was almost… nice to sit here.

“How do you feel being back at work?” Connor carefully broke the silence, looking at Gavin with big, honest eyes.

He gulped.

“It’s, uh, it’s good I guess. Better than being cooped up in the house.”

Connor smiled lightly. “You’ve never liked that much, not being able to do anything other than sit at home.”

“You’re damn right,” Gavin agreed, taking a bit from his burger.

It was strange that Connor knew him like this.

Silence.

“How’s work been for you?”

“As always,” Connor smiled. “Hank and I are making good progress on the Jones case.” Not that the name meant anything to Gavin.

“The weather has been improving recently.”

“Yeah, it’s still cold as fuck though.”

A nod, more quiet. Not the comfortable, peaceful kind that Gavin liked to enjoy when he took a little detour on his way home sometimes. Tense and uncomfortable, like the whole atmosphere had been between them.

To hell with small talk, he decided then.

“So, uh.” He hesitated, unsure which question to ask. Desperate to fill the awkward silence and a dying curiosity continuing to bug him.

“How, uh, how long have we been living together?”

The expression on Connor’s face was somewhere between wistful and pained.

“About a year now. We moved into the house not too long after you proposed.”

“Ah,” Gavin replied intelligently.

“How did I propose?”

A chuckle escaped Connor.

“It was — “ his LED is still yellow, his smile didn’t reach his eyes, but he looked happier than Gavin had seen him since yesterday.

“It was ridiculous. Stupid. You didn’t even have a ring.” Sounded like him, Gavin mused, wincing at the thought.

“We were out for lunch just — just like today, but you had insisted on getting food from a food truck, no matter how much I had argued.”

Connor seemed to be lost in his memories right now and Gavin decided not to interrupt him, simply chewing on his food and watching the other as he spoke, his expression softening more and more.

“You had made me try to analyze a strawberry milkshake because you wanted to see whether I could taste it. And suddenly you burst out that you wanted to marry me,” he concluded, shaking his head fondly.

A pang pulled through Gavin’s chest. The look in Connor’s eyes was so full of love, full of softness, despite the underlying hurt. He could tell by the way the android’s hand twitched that he wanted to take Gavin’s.

But he didn’t, out of respect for Gavin’s wishes. Gavin couldn’t remember the last time someone had spoken about him with such softness in their voice, such a look of love in their eyes.

Even if it wasn’t strictly him they were talking about, but another version of him.

A better version, a nicer version.

Connor smile began to fall as Gavin didn’t responded, but even if he had known what to say, the lump in his throat would have kept him from speaking his mind.

For a brief moment, he couldn’t help but wonder whether it could have been him. Could have been his version of himself that led such a happy life, with nice colleagues and a loving husband. With  _ Connor _ as his loving husband.

He tried to brush it off as quickly as it had come. There was no way he wanted that. Connor may be nice, may be respectful, may be truly in love with him unlike anyone had ever been, may look and sound so painfully human, but ultimately, he wasn’t, no matter how much the emotions in his eyes, the subtle movements on his face tried to convince Gavin that he was something other than a cold, unfeeling machine.

The conflict inside of him made him feel almost sick, part of him ridden with jealousy for his counterparts life, part of him unbelieving how any version of him could let it get this far with a tin can.

“You know —” Connor’s voice tore him out of his thoughts, his burger half-eaten on his plate, going cold, his appetite lost — “I know this is difficult for you right now,” he whispered, leaning closer to Gavin. He resisted the urge to lean back, to get away from the other.

“I know this Gavin, I know you’re scared and confused, but I also know that you can be so much more than this. And —” his voice trembled slightly. “And I know that you’re still the man I love.”

The words made a shiver run down Gavin’s spine and he had to look away, the intense gaze from those brown eyes too much for him to bear.

Because Connor was  _ wrong _ . So blatantly, painfully wrong. He was nothing more than the aggressive and hateful man he had always been, could be nothing more. He wasn’t the person Connor loved, didn’t  _ want _ to be him.

No matter how Connor had been tricked into thinking Gavin was capable of loving like this, especially loving an android, he had been wrong.

When he didn’t respond, Connor shuffled in his seat and stood up.

“We need to go back to work,” he said quietly.

Gavin nodded, still unable to look at the other, unmoving in his seat.

Connor grabbed his tray with the unfinished burger still on it, waiting for Gavin to protest. When he didn’t, Connor went to return it, and all Gavin could do was sit there and stare after him, feeling more lost than he ever had.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are my life source, so if you have the time, please consider leaving me your opinion! And feel free to drop by and talk to me on tumblr [@berry--blonde](https://berry--blonde.tumblr.com)! I'm always happy to hear from you guys <3


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